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Topic: Back in the Day (Chapter I) (Read 71578 times)

Dujek saw the priest backing up into the trap door, and though there was little love lost between him and any priesthood, he felt sorry for the kid so obviously out of his league. He noticed the ways the eyes watched the bobbing of the kid's sword, and just as the kid went to bring it down, he tried to make something, anything, appear to distract that thing for half a second, hopefully long enough for the kid to keep his hands.

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

--Grabbing the closest stool, Dujek hurled it at the beast in desperation, attempting to take its attention away from the suicidal priest. He missed its torso, and it sailed over the bar.

--It worked. Too well in fact. As Aethelstan thrust his greatsword into the creature's gaping, clacking maw, the sword plunged half way to its hilt, before the creatures vice-like, mandible-jaws closed in on the blade. It opened its jaws again and gurgled, but this time seemingly with a sound of alien, twisted joy. Aethelstan miraculously avoided the creatures mouth himself, and even more miraculously managed to retain his balance, despite the effort involved. Good things, unlike bad, apparently didnt happen in 'threes' however. For a moment he was perched on the stool, triumphantly, and the next, he was airborne, grasped with steel-trap claws and effortlessly dragged toward the creatures maw. The pain was numbing. Aethelstan's blood flowed freely from his shoulders. As he hovered over the beast, mere inches from its chompers, he stared at his sword, which was now barely visible, buried deep inside the beast's gullet. It had done damage, the priest thought that moment! He could see the weird fluids pumping gently from its gut, up into its throat. But something else was happening as well. It seemed the sword's blade was quickly being....digested.

The creature belched, and drew Aethelstan closer. St. Senren save me now

--The bolt fired straight and true, bursting through the weird membrane of one of the creature's three eyes. Only the shaft could be seen. bluish, pus-like syrup flowed from the Xaren's now tightly clenched eye-socket. The beast made an obscene noise. It was becomming apparent the creature was in some discomort. Vee reloaded, as he surveyed the scene.

--Moruz struck with all his force. The spear bit deep, only a second after Vee's bolt. The barbs ripped through the gooey pulp. Two of its three eyes were useless now, and the creature began to thrash about. It gurgled yet again, this time louder, and actually stumbled, though only for moment, before flailing out at Moruz once more. This time it struck him hard in the chest, but as he swerved, the other two claws flew by harmlessly. It felt like being hit with a metal pipe.

--One hefty youth, no doubt inspired by Moruz's words, came running at that moment wielding a mallet and club in each hand, and shouting at the top of his lungs, more to steel himself Vee noticed from a distance, than to scare the creature, the youth struck with his club and connected, but then a claw came swirling like a scythe, and pierced his forehead, before withdrawing. The youth stood for a few moments somewhat shocked, a thin, but steady stream, of blood trickling down into his eyes. He seemed disoriented. In that instant Moruz knew, for he had seen many a battle. It had pierced the youth's skull. He was dead. As if on cue, the youth crashed to the floor. He was still holding the mallet.

--Finding Goynas Teff's hidey-hole as he descended, Aerex first smelled mold. Then saw mold, as his eyes adjusted. Slimy, black barrels of what must have been spoiled ale, filled half the earthen chamber. A shelf with a few scattered items was on the opposite wall. It held both some odd and some mundane items such as bottles, a tinder box, a small iron-clasped box, some whistles, a malodorous skinned fox, tall pewter steins, a few dusty vials containing some unidentifiable russet powder, a collection of fish hooks and other odds and ends. A crude painting of a naked woman, lay on the damp floor. A huge mallet hung on a hook. Three feet of oak. It seemed their was also a crawl space, which went who knows where from here. A single lantern somehwere half way down the narrow tunnel-like passage, cast shadows along the crawlspace's length.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Talia scowled at the trap door. Underground was no good, that would send her directly into the lair of the things. Besides, the cellar only had one entrance... or exit. She raised an eyebrow as the apparent priest attempted to skewer the thing. If that ruddy great sword wasn't doing much, her fans would do less, so she stowed them again. Her eye fell on the mallets behind the bar. Possibly a blunt instrument would do more damage, but after seeing what had happend to that boy, she wasn't about to go hand to tentacle with them. Blunt instruments... large heavy objects... heavy objects falling... She started looking for something large and heavy propped up somewhere where it might be dislodged, all the while trying to make sure she stayed away from the claws. It didn't look like it was going to be possible to get out of the building until these things were downed, anyway.

As his precious sword was digested before his eyes, Aethelstan’s first thought was, “The Abbott’s going to be so angry I lost that!” Unfortunately, he was brought back to reality by the beast’s claws yanking him towards its hideous maw!

Unable to draw his mace from its ring on his belt while the beast held him, he madly squirmed to break free from its iron grasp. Desperately, he reached out toward the bar for anything he could use as a weapon: some sort of club, a bench, anything! All he could grab was a heavy wooden tray stacked high with battered pewter tankards, relics of the town’s more prosperous years. Laughing with his insane inspiration, he decided to dump the pile of old mugs straight into the thing’s gaping jaws.

Aerex quickly glanced over the myriad items stewn before him. What was that powder? How would that mallet fare against the beasts? When was the last time anyone bothered to clean this place? Aerex grabbed one of the vials and shoved it into his pocket, hoping it might be something useful. He then grabbed the mallet and considered his chances of fending off the monsters. Despite the wounded cry shrieking out of one of the creature's mouth, they were probably too tough for someone of his strength to fight head-on. If he could get another vantage point, though... Aerex took a deep breath and quickly made for the crawl space, rapier in one hand and mallet in the other.

The feel of his weapon penetrating the creature's exposed eye caused Moruz to smile faintly - but it was short-lived. Moruz felt all the air in his lungs bieng pushed out with the blow of the Xaren's arm, and the force of it caused the glass warrior to stumble backwards - however, he held tight onto his Ouzala, hoping to use the force of the creatures own blow to help wrench it out - the barbs hopefully cutting deeper as it unsheathed from it's eye. Either way, Moruz stepped back a few more paces just in time to witness an adolescent tear towards the beast, only to be sticken down in a single swipe of it's claw. The Ouzquin sighed softly at this. Weakened by the blow, the warrior decided a change of tactics was in order, and instead of furthering his attack, Moruz decided to use the Xaren's slowness against it, attempting to stay in the creature's now available blind spots and stay a ways back. Holding his Ouzala in one hand he periodically tapped the spear against the ground as far away from anyone as he could reach, to try to confuse his own location from the Xaren by using sound and vibration. With his other hand, he reached down to pluck the mallet from the now-dead youth's hand and fling it at the Xaren as hard as possible - at all times trying to keep some distance from the beast.From the other side of the room, he could hear the maniacal laughter of a young priest caught in the vice-like grip of the second Xaren. "It's true..." Moruz permitted himself to think in the back of his mind, "These outlanders ARE crazy..."

Moruz was injured, and he knew it. But he also knew that if he didn't make a move, eventually the Xaren would get lucky and strike him again with those flailing arms. As such, the glass warrior decided to go for what he knew from experience was a weak point of these creatures; Darting forth, Moruz circled the creature to gain access to the third and final eye of the beast and - with an audible roar of fury - drove his Ouzala forth yet again, attempting to puncture that plump sphere of liquid. Whether or not he succeeded in this attack, he quickly wrenched his spear out and leapt upwards, using an upright table as an aid to gain height. In midair, he aimed his weapon downwards to this time jab into the gaping maw of the Xaren.

--Suddenly, the door burst open, and several city guards, looking a bit drunk, rushed in. Actually only two rushed in, though more could be seen outside, jockeying for position. Facing the beasts back, they swung with heavy staves, at the now thrashing creature.

--At that very moment Moruz and the Xaren were engaged in a dance of death. The Xaren, blinded and raged, whipped and flailed about. Moruz was doing some hopping and jumping of his own, attemtpting to avoid a deathblow from one of the creature's swinging appendages. Ripping his spear free, causing the creature more anguish, Moruz manuevered himself to face the last remaining good eye...and once more plunged his spear into the creature's pulpy goo. He connected again, and this time the creature erupted with an undescribable cry of pain. As Moruz leapt onto the table however to attack again, the creature whirled and smashed the table legs beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor, with a hard thud. I am still alive, Moruz thought, before his ribs, began barking with pain.

--Meanwhile the guards finished off the dying Xaren. As another of Vee's bolts careened off the creature, causing pebbles to fly, the guards pounded the beast with their staves. And in a few moments, the Xaren lunged at his new attackers, but ended up crashing to the floor instead. Two more guards ran in, and headed directly toward the other Xaren staves in hand. This one looked about ready to swallow the brave priest.

--Aerex crawled and cursed. The passage was dank and foul smelling...eventually, after about fifty feet, he reached what looked like another trap door above, and a dead end. Trying the latch, it opened easily enough, and suddenly Aerex found his head sticking up out of the tunnel. He was outside, in some alley, he thought, from the direction he was crawling. The fresh air felt good as he inhaled it, but he was now convinced he'd be to late to help anyone back in the inn. Instead he spied some old man, running down the street, screaming for the city guard. "Someone Help! Some kid just stole my pony! Where are the d**n guards!?"

--Aethelstan made peace with St. Senren and plunged the tray and pewter tankards into the Xaren's mouth, laughing maniacally as he did so. The Xaren, suddenly seemed to pause in its attempt at swallowing or chomping down on the priest, as mugs gurgled down its throat. Pewter, Aethelstan thought...a metallic alloy, as he was helplessly flung twenty feet, by the suddenly disinterested beast, which was now seemingly munching away on the mugs. Crashing loudly into a shelf of bottles and mugs behind the bar, Aethelstan's last thought was...that really hurt, before he passed out, and slid helplessly down, disappearing from view.

--At that very moment, a gleaming fan went whizzing through the air, missing the beast completely. Talia's throw was not intended to strike the creature however. Instead she had spied a hanging barrel on the ceiling, suspended by a chain. The fan struck the chain in a shower of sparks, and it broke, sending the barrel crashing down, smashing a side of the Xaren's torso, and breaking upon impact, some rancid ale bursting forth. One slat went flying at Dujek, striking him square on his forehead. Dujek looked dazed for a second, then slid to the ground, unconscious, a huge bloody welt, appearring on his head, as he lay there twitching.

--The guards began pummeling the last standing Xaren with their staves. It managed to skewer one of the men, as a guard's cry of pain rang out through the taproom. But in a few moments, the creature was on the ground, twitching its gangly limbs uncontrollably, much like Dujek was....and dying, unlike Dujek.

--As suddenly as it all began, it was now over. Silence reigned, as all present looked around in confusion, almost anticipating another beast to burst through the floor at any moment. No more Xarens came.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Aerex grunted as he squirmed out of the hole. The old man stopped in his tracks and blinked at him. "What the hell are ya doin in there?" he said, perplexed. Aerex tossed the mallet aside and brushed off his uniform. "Long story," he muttered. "Is there a healer or anyone like that in town? The tavern's going to need them there." Aerex sheathed his rapier and walked swiftly past the old man.

"Healers?" The old man quizzed.

Aerex nodded. "Xaren."

A small gasp escaped from the man's mouth before he ran down the alley. As the man's steps grew further away, Aerex froze. "Hey!" he shouted, turning around. "What'd that horse thief look like?" As the old man shouted a brief description, Aerex grimaced. I wonder if it's... He quickly jogged down the street, searching for the criminal.

Aethelstan found himself standing at the edge of a dark, primordial wood. Sitting on a log nearby was an older man, armored and with the bearing of a soldier.

"Am I... am I dead?" he asked the strange warrior.

"No, you're just out cold and having a vision. You gotta be more careful, boy! You may not care if you get yourself killed, but having the Powers of Chaos clean the floor with my boys is bad for our reputation. Remember the 27th Precept of Andur: "Justice waits for its proper time; it will not be rushed."

Aethelstan frowned. "I don't understand", he mumbled.

"It means: Don't jump into a monster's face without preparation or forethought! Don't let it use you as a chew toy! For Andur's sake, DON'T FEED IT YOUR SWORD!"

"Oh. Sorry, 'bout that."

"It's O.K. Just try not to do it again. Now go away, it's been nice talkin' to ya." The older man began rifling through his pouch for his pipe. "Oh, and one more thing: Don't start smokin'. It's a bad habit."

Vee climbed out from behind the upturned table that had covered him for the duration of the fight. He felt his skin cold looking at the youth with the bloody hole punched through his skull. That was theside of valour that scared him, that was the part that had caused him to not take up the sword. It also made him glad that he didnt try going after one of the monsters...xaren they had called them, with his dagger.

He heard a groan and quickly made for where the young priest had landed, with some luck he might just be roughed up and not ready for Old Simeon...[2500] Vee checked the priest to see if he was still breathing, not that there was much he could do if he wasnt but it really seemed like the right thing to do.

In the silence that reigned, Moruz audibly uttered an expletive in his native language. The battle was over, but he could feel the pain wracking his body - he was in bad shape. Nevertheless, the man struggled to his feet. In spite of all that had happened, he glanced once more to the door which the thieving child had ran out of, but he did not head for it. Instead, he made his way to the corpse of the youth who had charged the Xaren so brazenly and plucked a pair of simple mirrored coins from a fold of material around his belt, placing them over the body's eyes. A quick glance was then given to the rest of those in the tavern before Moruz turned and limped towards the door; intent on reclaiming his lost property. About half a dozen steps from the exit, however, the glass man stumbled and fell to his knees. Once more shouting a frustrated curse, Moruz lowered his head and slammed a fist against the floorboards, remaining kneeled on the floor. His breaths were shallow and struggled, and he winced every time he inhaled. He thought he tasted blood.

The wall was only a hundred feet ahead. The gate was open. Percy could not even spy any guards. He couldnt help but smile to himself. What a town! What a bunch of buffoons! Like stealing milk from a kitten!

Whipping his poney's haunch, causing the poor creature to lurch forward and grunt in pain, Percy sped up toward the welcoming exit. He eyed his prize as he rode. Jervoe would pay a pretty pence for this piece. He would pay well indeed. The Lover of Scorpions, would don it triumphantly, and pay Percy all the gold he could carry. Life was sweet.

Eh? Who's that now? Percy glanced over his shoulder and his expression changed. Running full steam, down the thoroughfare a hundred fifty feet behind was one of the folks he had spied in the inn. The determined little man was actually closing on Percy's wretched, useless pony. Percy spurred his pathetic mount on, and finally reaching the gate, noticed a few guards for the first time. He rode directly for them, assuming his eleven year old boy's voice.

"Good sirs help, my pa has been robbed. He threw me on this horse and bade me ride...ride Percy, he said, for one of us must live..go my son!"

The guards eyed the little boy and the pony. One of the guards spoke.

"We must be the only two idiots who missed the Xaren battle. Well, it makes sense. These pigs wait for a tragedy then use that as an excuse to rob good folk."

The other guard, not much for conversation managed a "mmm"

"Well your safe now boy. Tell us who your pa is, who robbed him, and where they are." the first guard spoke again.

Percy turned around as he pretended to think. "Well..THERE! There he is..he's coming now! I hope Pa is alive!"

Percy summoned tears the way most men could summon farts.

"That running fellow?" the guard inquired

"Yes, I remember him, he has a sabre, be careful, and he stole somethin' from my pa!"

"He's trying to escape eh? Fear not boyo. Stay here by the gate. You are safe now."

The two men began walking toward the approaching figure, swords drawn. As they drew closer they heard the man with the hat scream something strange as he continued coming right for them... "Stop Thief!"

Percy paused briefly, then calmly and quietly turned his pony, and rode out of Ganse's gate once and for all. He giggled as he did. "Buffoons"

Coming to a halt, breathing rapidly, Aerex looked at the two guards and was confused by their aggressive expressions.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Talia caught her fan, then jumped down from the bar. She hadn't been hurt at all, really; some flying debris had struck hard enough to raise a mark, but she cared little about that. Others hadn't been so lucky. That idealistic fool, she supposed he was some sort of priest, seemed to be out cold (or worse...), but another patron seemed to be checking on him. The glass man, he looked pretty beat up. She made her way over to him, and knelt down next to him. "I'm no healer, but I'll do what I can, if you wish." She was a fair hand at patching people up, although she'd seldom tried treating injuries this bad.

Aerex furrowed his brow, a hint of anger in his eyes. "What's going on?" he demanded. "You need to stop that boy, he's a horse thief." The two guards exchanged looks, then glared back at Aerex. "Look, I'm Investigator Aerex Matare, Royal Constabulary." He instinctively reached for his badge, which of course had be stripped from him by the Captain months ago. Badge or no, I'm still a connie, he thought. He exploded into a furious rant. "I don't know what kind of two-bit operation you're running here, but in Jantir, we don't let horse thieves bluff their way out the gate. Have you heard of Jantir, the capitol of the Empire?" One of the guards started to say something, but Aerex cut him off. "Now I don't let brazen kids run out of my town with good people's property. And right now, I'm in Ganse and Ganse is my town. So either go run that petty criminal down yourself, or step aside." He gave them the harshest authoritarian look he could muster and waited for their response.

"Empire?" the first guard mumbled. The second one graced Aerex with "mmm".

Th Empire was not mentioned often in far-off Ganse, but like trained dogs, the word struck a chord of submission in those who were fearful of its yoke.

--Aerex spoke, the guards listened, but by the time the guards realized the truth, riding after Percy seemed a futile exercise. After all he stole a pony and some stranger's bauble. That wasnt enough to rouse the guards into leaving the relative safety of the town's walls for any significant amount of time. Besides, there was that Xaren mess to check on. One guard had died during the attack.

Frustrated with the whole exchange, Aerex mumbled something along the lines of.."The Xaren had more wits than these guards." as he returned to the Harpy's Kettle.

Arriving, he found a few dead, a few recuperating, and a few standing or sitting in disbelief.

--Talia did her best to tend to Moruz' deep chest bruise and gashed shoulder. The man was now leaning against a wall, breathing heavily and wincing, as he drew in breath. He had at least one cracked rib, mayhaps completely broken, thought Talia.

--Vee tended to Aethelstan, who had finally recovered, and was sitting on a stool, his back leaning on the same bar he had crashed into not long ago. Once he realized the priest would live, Vee checked on the skinny, crop-haired man in the green cloack. Vee had recollected him, did he give a name?... he had approached the group and entered into their conversation, right before the Xaren changed everyone's dinner plans.

The dead were dead, and the living were living.

Eventually after much discussion, debate, and some good old-fashioned elbow grease fixing the taproom, the guards dispersed, strongly advising everyone else to do the same. Six of the guards and an additional four men, who had entered the inn with buckets and tools, descended into the cellar to seek survivors and patch up earthen walls, to prevent further attacks from the fell Xaren. Other guards began to drag the carcasses of the Xaren outside.

Aerex stood in the doorway and looked on, as he spied the last six people remaining in the inn, himself included. A lull, a hush of sorts hung in the taproom. Only occasional groans from Aethelstan and Moruz, disrupted the silence.

"Well, look here", Vee announced casually, as he bent down suddenly and picked something up off the floor, not far from where Moruz battled one of the beasts.

"An Opal" he announced to everyone, and flung the black shard into the air, catching it again, and pocketing it.

Ah, how I have come to love that sense of accomplishment and victory that I get when I pull the wool over the eyes of a clever player character. What DM Triumphs have you had?

Some of mine:1. Finally killing an incredibly powerful, lucky, annoying player's character.2. Finally achieving a TPK (Total Party Kill)3. Finally achieving a TPK using only traps4. Finally working out how to make it so that d**n wizard doesn't steal the spotlight all the d**n time.

Darkness... And the memories of endless nights spent talking to the sleepers...Hey kid, it's ok. It's all right, you just lay there and let those gaurds cart you off to where ever they feel like. I think we could learn to live there, probably on a stake with a bunch of logs round us. It'd bring us a taste of its freedom. Unconsciousness is true happiness, no? What? Don't know what to say?

Dujek rolled over and opened his eyes, immediately wishing he didn't. His head, and all that light hurt. Pushing himself up he realized what he'd been laying in, a nice mix of ale and his own blood. Blood? Opening his eyes again he looked around at the wreckage, slowly remembering the fight. Remebering his wound he walked over to the bar and looked for something to clean his wounds. He saw one of the barrels of ale, only leaking from a couple of holes, and decided to use that. Cleaning out the wound on his forehead as best as he could, he walked over to the bar and tried to look around, still having a bit of trouble determining which of the two rooms he was seeing was the real one.

Logged

For the love of meat, shut up! No one wants to hear your emo character background! My hands are literally melting away, and I'm complaining less than you!—K'seliss, Goblins

Moruz accepted Talia's help wordlessy, simply giving a small nod of appreciation. Every touch of his chest caused him to wince slightly, but he never audibly registered the pain. During the first aid, Moruz's eyes rarely left the door that Percy left from. "I must find that child..." he informed Talia as she neared completion of her first-aid. Still, he remained where he was - he was in no condition to go charging off after Percy, no matter how much he wished he could.

"He's probably halfway across the plains by now." Talia watched the other fellow get up and make an attempt at cleaning the cut on his forehead, then shook her head and went over to him. "You'd best let someone bandage that properly." He still looked rather dazed, not that she blamed him. "Well, this was fun," she said to no one in particular. "What in blazes were those things, anyway?"

Whatever they were, she didn't want to spend any more time than necessary in a town that played host to them. Plus, she still had bandits to kill. She didn't know if these people would help her or not. She rather hoped they would; they seemed like they could handle themselves in a fight.

Aerex glanced as the injured mage. "Hey, you alright?" he asked. The question sounded stupid as it came out, considering they were in the shattered remains of a bar with two huge xaren corpses in the room. The blood on his head hinted at a concussion. Aerex pulled a stool out for him and placed it before him. "You should probably sit down," he recommended, the advice sounding only slightly less stupid than the first question.

Aerex walked over near the glass warrior, who appeared to be injured. He knelt down beside him. "Bad news is, that kid got away with your circlet," he announced to Moruz. "Good news is, I saw which way he went." He turned to look at Talia. "Which way did you say those bandits were coming from? I've got a feeling that kid was going to make some dirty coin with his loot."

Moruz acknowledged Aerex's words with a nod, and he pushed himself up to a stand, using the wall as support. Listening to the rest of the investigators words, and recalling Talia asking earlier about requesting help for killing bandits, Moruz turned to the woman. "Listen... Help me find my orb, and I will help you slay as many bandits as you require!" The man hobbled over to one of the few unbroken nearby chairs and sat heavily in it, peering up at the woman.

Aerex considered him options. There was no point in going back to Jantir now, as the corrupt officials were certainly still in power. Arresting a gang of bandits like Jervoe's Tribe would get him enough prestige to get a cushy job in another city, perhaps Ephenil or even Port Rose. Besides, that punk kid ran off with stolen goods, and Investigator Matare always catches his man...

"Alright, I'm in. Investigator Aerex Matare, at your service," he said with a slight bow.

Brother Aethelstan stirred. He opened his eyes, and instantly regretted it as the pounding of his head grew worse. The double vision didn't help matters, either. As he grew able to focus on the ruin around him, he could see that there were people who needed his help, people in trouble. He had to act!

Immediately he leapt to his feet... or that was the plan anyway. After his ribs advised against that, he decided to roll over and crawl instead. After he was sure who here was hurt most seriously, he would release the power of the healing prayers that Abbott Thorn had spent so many hours teaching.

Vee felt exultant, the pulse of adrenaline still carrying him high. Why shouldn't it? Everything that Kollekter Solip, his old mentor in Nimz, had told him had not panned out. For a bit he had been worried that the dried up old sage might have been right. He had really been hit hard when he ended up selling his weatherbeaten old pony about a week ago. There was not much left of that silver now, but the opal...now that was something else.

As the others tended to the wounded and removed the corpses of the Xaren he stepped close to one of the lamps to get a better look at his new find. He turned the pale opal in his fingers, letting the light play across it's vitrious surface and reflect through its iridescent depths.